meet with on the banks of the water-courses. The plots are marked out with the mathematical precision of squares on a chess-board, divided by ridges with frequent gaps permitting of a free influx of water from the central channel, at the opening of which, fixed in a raised platform, a long pole with a calabash tied on the end of it, is lowered into the water and its contents afterwards poured into the trench. Conditions differ of course according to locality, and the technique and industry displayed by the farmers of one district vary a good deal from the next. In the northern part of Zaria and in Kano the science of agriculture has attained remarkable development. There is little we can teach the Kano farmer. There is much we can learn from him. Rotation of crops and green manuring are thoroughly understood, and I have frequently noticed in the neighbourhood of some village small heaps of ashes and dry animal manure deposited at intervals along the crest of cultivated ridges which the rains will presently wash into the waiting earth. In fact, every scrap of fertilizing substance is husbanded by this expert and industrious agricultural people. Instead of wasting money with the deluded notion of “teaching modern methods” to the Northern Nigerian farmer, we should be better employed in endeavouring to find an answer to the puzzling question of how it is that land which for centuries has been yielding enormous crops of grain, which in the spring is one carpet of green, and in November one huge cornfield “white unto harvest,” can continue doing so. What is wanted is an expert agriculturist who will start out not to teach but to learn; who will study for a period of say five years the highly complicated and scientific methods of native agriculture, and base possible improvements and suggestions, maybe, for labour-saving appliances, upon real knowledge.